


We are all fools in love.

by Okumen



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: Ace Dusty Attenborough, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mentions of Dubcon, Phone Drabble (first chapter only), Post-Canon Spoilers in later chapter/s, Spoilers if you only know DNT, definitely not slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okumen/pseuds/Okumen
Summary: Dusty just wants some peace and quiet, but apparently he can't find that anywhere, not even in a library.
Relationships: Dusty Attenborough/Oskar von Reuenthal
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> The titles used for the characters in here are the ones they are listed with in the major characters list at the beginning of novel volume 6, Flight, since this fic is set during the time Yang o co. are retired etc. As such the titles might not be accurate, since they get new ones all willy-nilly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 26/1 -21 edit, trying to fix some phrasing and also to not abuse the various forms of the words "amused". I did originally write this chapter fully on my phone, after all. There's bound to be some wonkiness that probably still needs to be worked through present as a result.

There was a particular feeling accompanying the whole being shadowed by Imperial agents thing. It wasn't that they tried to get in the way of Dusty going places, or insisted on being inside with him when he wasn't out (and he was often out), but they were a constant, niggling presence. Always easy to find in the periphery of his vision.

He'd considered multiple times if he perhaps should try inviting one of them into his parents house as an experiment. See how his blasted old man might react to the presence of an Imperial soldier in his livingroom.

point, sir."

But seriously, maybe he should. Like the one that he knew his sister Ava was ogling when she dropped by. The smaller one of the two currently stalking Dustys path through the library. They stood out, where they stood lined up with their gazes locked on him, rather than browsing the shelves they stood by. So long as they got out of the way is someone needed to check those shelves, he supposed...

He had wanted to use one of the group study rooms, to be able to spread out and write and job- and house-search without the distraction of people passing by just behind him or in front of him (people-watching could be interesting, but that wasn't his goal at the moment), but he was out of luck. Of course he was, he always had been when he snuck out from either his parents house when he was much younger, or from the academy later on. Did the study rooms hate him because he wanted some alone-time, or something?

(The only regret he had about retiring was that he had to at least temporarily live with his parents, since his old planet-bound home had been assigned to him by the Navy, and he didn't have as much respect in the military as Yang begrudgingly had.)

If only it had been a 24/7 library like the one five hours away... Then he could have just perma-booked one and live out of it until he found his own living.

But he wasn't that shitty of a person. A few hours he could do without any guilt, but days? Not so much.

He had booked a room that would open up in about three and a half hours. It would be a while, but he found a single-person work table in some lesser-used section to drag some books to. There he intended to while away the time until the room he had booked was free for his use.

His peace lasted for a while at least, though the presence of the two guards nearby prickled his skin and made it hard for him to focus. He wanted a private room to get away from that, too.

On top of that, the two guards in their Imperial uniforms drew peoples attention, and various library visitors drew near to watch and whisper. Dusty was glad that he wasn't as recognizable as Yang. He didn't want inquisitive questions or helpful comments. Or scornful comments for that matter.

Not even an hour had passed when Dusty felt another presence, different from the many curious onlookers. When he looked up, he saw another man in uniform, but sleeker, more formal-looking than the two guards.

Dusty had never met him in person, but he knew who he was with little thought. Imperial Marshal Oskar von Reuenthal, secretary-general of Kaiser Reinhard von Lohengramms Supreme Command Headquarters. Was taking long, calm strides in Dustys direction. Okay. Why?

Dusty hadn't removed his cheek from his hand, he realised. By then he had probably stared up at the Imperial marshal and his pretty, mismatched eyes for way too long, and he found himself momentarily tongue-tied when von Reuenthal opened his mouth to speak. "Vice Admiral Attenborough?" A simple question, with a way too sputtered answer. "Yea- sure am- uh yes."

There was a bit of an uptilt to von Reuenthals lips, a bit of an amused look in his eyes. "Is your writing as eloquent as you are?"

For a moment longer, during which Dustys chin and hand went through a painless divorce, Dusty was quiet. Then finally he fished his tongue out of his throat down which it apparently had hid, and Dusty hastily wet his lips. "I can hope it's at least half as good," he said, searching for his bearings and landing in ''too casual''. But with his first line being like _that_ , he figured he didn't really care that much. If he landed in a joking tone as a result, that was that. "It's a surprise to see you in a public alliance library though, Marshal von Reuenthal. I heard rumoured that Imperial flagships have their own personal ones."

von Reuenthal arched a perfect eyebrow. "Do you really think that any battleship would also work as a floating library?" He didn't sound as if he believed Dusty to be that stupid, but like he was asking because.... Because? It almost felt a little casual, but probably wasn't.

Dusty shrugged. If he set out this way, he should see where this attitude would take him. "Like I said, it's _rumoured_ , and rumours are only rumours, unless they're confirmed from reliable sources. Personally I think that the risk to all those books being brought into battle alongside the soldiers seems pretty stupid, but what do I know." At the end, he made a vague gesture his his propped-up hand.

"Hmmm.. Certainly making the books fight as well would be quite foolish, at least." von Reuenthal agreed. It took a beat, and then Dusty was trying not to laugh. The mental image of books in little Imperial uniforms and FPA berets were simply too much. "You look as though you are about to explode." von Reuenthal said with a more quiet voice. Presumably, he didn't want the guards to flip their shit. He sounded entertained. Dusty covered his mouth and allowed himself to snigger behind it. That way, he wouldn't burst into loud, unstoppable laughter. He did not want a temporary ban again, like he had back when he was 14.

"There, situation diffused," Dusty said with a pat of his hands against his cheeks. The situation being his laughter bomb. "But anyway, marshal, what are you really doing in one of our public libraries?"

"Research," von Reuenthal responded. It was just that one word, but it somehow didn't come out snippy, only as a calm, simple fact. Apparently, he didn't feel like sharing _what_ he was researching. But that amusement was clearly present in his tone of voice. "And you are here to litter, it seems."

"Litt-...?" When he looked around the little table he had claimed, Dusty found that nobody could be faulted for assuming that littering was exactly what he was there to do. "Oh, oops, no, I was," Dusty got up - realising that he should have done so earlier, probably right away or something, because from a distance away, the two guards (joined by a third at the edge) seemed to be glowering, though pretending to not be - and he collected some of the crumpled papers and discarded sheaves. He shuffled some in a more heap-like situation with his foot. "I was just waiting for a study room to open since they're all full at the moment."

"Indeed. I am aware. I seem to have claimed the last one available at the time when I chose to use one." Dusty groaned.

"Lucky. I _always_ have to wait for ages when I want to use one. You got any spare space in yours?" 

Slowly, von Reuenthal blinked his mismatched eyes. "You are asking to share with me?"

"Well. Yeah. I attract a lot of attention with those two stepping on my heels - no offense, I know they're just doing their job - and I can't really focus with all the foot traffic."

A few moments of consideration passed. von Reuenthal observed Dusty for those moments, and unflinchingly, Dusty met his gaze. There were a lot of things that could be said about those eyes. Dusty wondered if his eyes were solid in their colours, or if there were flecks of others, as there were in Dustys muddy greens. He wasn't close enough to see well, and asking would be a bit... A _bit_. They didn't know each other.

von Reuenthal sighed, finally, and acquiesced. "Very well. But don't dawdle." That addendum wasn't all that necessary. Dusty didn't know if von Reuenthal would or wouldn't change his mind suddenly. Though the not-so-thought-through action of pushing some of his things in von Reuenthals grasp was... not all that wise, perhaps. The guards were offended and had to be told to back down (and was made to carry von Reuenthals sudden armful of books and papers) and von Reuenthal himself looked a bit... Ruffled? Taken aback? Amazing. The look was certainly aesthetically pleasing.

.

.

.

.

.

"And you say _I_ litter."

The study room, one at the end of the long balcony hallway, contained a considerable amount of loose papers on the floor, on the table, on the shelf, on the chairs. Way more than anything Dusty had collected at his feet.

"While I am not, yes." von Reuenthal started to clear away some of the papers and books on the table, moving them to provide some space for Dusty to sit.

"You astound me, marshal." Dusty made sure to apply his most fake-shocked tone of voice as he looked at von Reuenthal. von Reuenthal scoffed. It sounded nearly as fake as Dustys exaggeration.

"Not as much as you astound me, vice-admiral," von Reuenthal rebuffed. Dusty rolled his eyes.

"I'd say that smarts if it actually did."

"Are you sure you're not only telling yourself that it doesn't?" There was something in von Reuenthals voice. A genuine kind of mirth, subdued and expressed in a smooth smile? Perhaps. Interesting fellow. Pretty on the eye, too.

What a shame he had to be born in the Empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I switch tenses in like half a billion places, but editing on the phone is a hassle so I will do so on my laptop at a later date. o7
> 
> edit, 23/2: now that that's done late in the evening, I hope I didn't miss anything.
> 
> wdit, 7/5: One more try. Again way too late. At some point I will go through it at a decent hour.


	2. Tuesday

The sun shone in through the window, making the specks of dust that danced through the air glow like gold. Dusty hummed part of some melody he didn't know the name of as he hung the laundry up to dry. It had finished as he was shaving, and since he was already there he might as well. Every little piece he might do made him feel a little less as if he was mooching off of his parents without doing anything around the house. Even if he was at the house as little as possible.

"Dusty," he heard behind him. Her tone held reproach, and Dusty turned toward her, a pair of trousers in his hands.

"Mum," he greeted in return.

Her eyebrows were drawn together, displeasure on her face. "What do you think you're doing?" She stepped over to him, and the obvious answer of ''hanging laundry'' faltered in Dustys throat. "This isn't a task for you," his mum said, and she pulled the trousers out of his grasp. His hands remained aloft near his chest for a few moments, before they fell to his sides.

"I just wanted to help." He didn't mean to sound offended, but he knew what was coming.

"That's very nice of you dear but this is not a mans task."

Dusty pressed his lips together against the protest - if he mentioned his constant bachelourhood as a reason for being used to it she would take that as an opportunity to nag him about that as well, just as she would nag about him retiring from service if he mentioned that as another reason for being used to cleaning. "There is no such thing, mum," he commented. She sighed and shook her head. As if he was hopeless.

"You are young, and just don't see how the world works yet. When you grow up you will."

"Mum, I'm twenty-nine," he said. Almost thirty. As if he should have to inform her of that. She gave birth to him, and should know that he wasn't a child any more. He hadn't been a child for years.

She ignored his comment, and nudged him towards the door. "Cut the grass instead, would you darling?" Dusty ran a hand through his hair and fled the bathroom before he had to hear her go on about what he should and shouldn't be doing, and he went to the garage to fetch the lawn mower. He wanted to check the ads but _boys don't shirk their duties_ blah blah blah.

Still, he finished with the lawn as soon as he was able, then before his mum could give him another task, he fished his bag out through his bedroom window and snuck away, pressing a finger to his lips in the direction of the bewildered Imperial soldiers, who soon followed him along the road toward the bus stop.

Stepping off the bus once it reached the city was a relief. His mum had not yet tried to contact him so either she didn't have anything for him to do or to nag about, or she was distracted by whatever around the house. His stomach rumbled. An early lunch sounded good at that moment, and Dusty ordered a large coke and a burger at the nearest fast food joint he came across. It had changed name since he was a teen, but it still was more or less the same as when he used to hang out there, at the same window, with a notebook or homework or newspapers or books or sometimes friends. The scenery outside had changed more than the interior of the dingy shop, even without counting the Imperial uniforms visible among the pedestrians.

"Hey," Dusty called to the soldiers watching him eat (which really was weird, weirder than being watched writing or reading) "Is the marshal gonna be at the library today too?" The soldiers stiffened. Dusty arched an eyebrow at them. "Yikes, I just wanna talk to him, you're so paranoid."

One soldier huffed; they both scowled at him. "If he is or not is not any of your concern, former vice admiral," the huffy one said. Dusty should advice Ava agaisnt hitting on him; he was clearly a snooty brat--even if he looked older than Dusty.

"You could've just said it's above your paygrade," Dusty remarked. Both of them wore low-ranked insignias, and even if they hadn't, it was obvious that no high ranked officer would be put on stalking duty the way these men were. The two seemed to bristle. _Maybe don't antagonize your watch dogs, Dusty,_ Dusty told himself. Well, they clearly didn't like him from the start anyway, and even less since his fairly impolite encounter with the revered Marshal von Reuenthal the day before. Dusty wiped his fingers on a tissue and got up to put away his tray and leave. The library was not far away, and it was his refuge in the trying times of living with his parents.

.

.

.

.

.

Dusty was in luck. And perhaps a bit invasive, but he had started out that way already. He had spotted a uniformed soldier heading up the stairs and his course was set. He raised a hand in greeting when he was allowed into the study room. "Good morning, marshal!" Marshal Oskar von Reuenthal arched a perfect eyebrow at the chipper tone in the inaccurate greeting. He waved the soldier that had opened the door out of the room.

"Do you not know how to read a clock, vice admiral?" von Reuenthal enquired. Dusty shrugged.

"No, I do, but it's better than good afternoon, isn't it?"

The marshal sighed, after a few moments of simply looking at Dusty. "I suppose. I see you are here to occupy enemy territory again."

Dusty was the one to arch eyebrows at von Reuenthal then, as though he wasn't finding table space for the many newspapers he had gathered downstairs as von Reuenthal was watching him. "From what I've gathered, us FPA people are supposedly kinda literally below you Imperials these days." Dusty pulled out a chair with his foot and placed his bag on it.

"Your territory and people will be under our regulation now, yes." von Reuenthals gaze flickered momentarily to the thick stack of papers Dusty had brought. On top was one specialially targeted toward people on the prowl for jobs. "Is this your way of asking to become my subordinate?"

A huff accompanied Dustys tilted smile. He sat down, and flipped open the paper. "I'm retired, and have no interest in being a soldier again, no matter the employer." Dusty had finally been able to get out of all that. Many soldiers would stay on in the military even when the proper shift into the FPA becoming an official part of the Empire happened, because it definitely would, even as many were in denial, but Dusty was not one of them. "I'm after more non-combative jobs."

"Such as?"

"Journalist."

"That is a non-combative job?"

Dusty huffed again. "In different ways. I'm sure you get what I mean."

"I'm not so sure that I do." Dusty glanced up from the ads. von Reuenthal had sat down, just opposite of Dusty. He was pretty sure he had been seated in another chair before.

There was that amusement again, a spark in those mismatched eyes. Like a comet soundlessly slipping across the night sky. Like the sunlight catching on the soft ripples of the calm ocean. Eyes that one could drown in, if one looked into them for too long. It was no wonder he was popular, with eyes like that, a voice like that, a skill like his. Though maybe the ladies he was well-known to woo was not interested in his skills as a battlefield tactician as they were in those eyes. Surely there were men equally distracted by them as women seemed to be, as well, but the Imperialists were raised with different values between men and women in a different way than they were in the FPA. Though... Maybe not that different.

"Should I explain, then?"

There was a slight, barely there smile on von Reuenthals lips. In his eyes. Something that Dusty probably wouldn't have noticed had he not been so focused on von Reuenthals face. Dustys own smile was certainly spread wider than von Reuenthals was. "Perhaps you should."

"Mmmfh.." Dusty played with his fingers. He observed von Reuenthal, who met his gaze in return. "The combatative parts are more about information gathering and getting it printed than about warships clashing. Not that being under an incompetent editor is any less frustrating than being under an incompetent commander. Or corrupt ones, or cowardly ones, or stingy ones." He shook his head before he got stuck on that and just started to insult such incompetents he had dealt with in the past. "Freedom of the press should not mean that some rich guy is free to buy an article he doesn't like so it doesn't get published, or that the military is free to threaten a publication so the truth about some shady dealings gets covered up. Freedom of the press means that the press should be allowed to publish any story, so long as it is the _truth_. No bullshit stories that are made up of lies or unconfirmed rumours blown out of proportions just for clout and sales."

When von Reuenthal pushed down one of Dustys raised hands (he hadn't even realised that he had been gesturing) and asked, "Am I being chided?" Dusty retracted both his hands and felt his cheeks heat up.

"No, sorry, just got some opinions on that. Off topic." He tugged awkwardly at his fingers. "Though I do stand by it."

"It sounds as though you have some experience with it," von Reuenthal commented. Dusty shrugged, and couldn't stop a grimace from passing over his face.

"Well. A bit. I was part of the officers academys school paper, way back. Got some different experiences from that." It had been frustrating, at times. "But I like to write, so, well, I stuck by it."

"And yet you became a soldier?"

Another grimace passed over Dustys face, staying longer than the previous one. "Yeah... Not by choice.. It's..." He didn't feel like delving into the reason behind _that_ at the moment. "..an annoying story."

Dustys phone dinged, and he groaned when he read the message. "Apparently I have to stay home all tomorrow, help my mum around the house," he explained at the look he recieved. Then he muttered, more to himself, "'s she want me to be domestic or not..." von Reuenthal was still looking at him, and Dusty frowned at him. "What?"

"You can't simply say no?"

"I live with them right now. That's why I need a job. To get my own place. Pension's not gonna cover it enough."

"Ah. Then for now, I'll let you return to your browsing."

Dusty arched an eyebrow at von Reuenthal. "You weren't gonna do that?" von Reuenthals crooked smile appeared.

"I was thinking of listening to you rant for a while longer, but that can wait a while."

Dusty snorted. "Well alright, sure, maybe I'll do that later then."

But for the moment, then, he was going to return to the job ads. If he kept periodically glancing up at von Reuenthal where he sat bent over his own papers, that was his business alone.


	3. Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter one. It's a bit of an interlude, I guess. I have also added the simplest chapter titles to each chapter. It's really just the weekdays that whatever happens happens during though.
> 
> I believe I mostly wrote this on my phone.

He was stuck at home, that Wednesday. Dusty was frustrated by it, by being told to do this and that, that could have been done ages ago or wasn't that important in reality. To mow the lawn ("I did that _yesterday_." "It has to be absolutely _perfect_."). To polish the windows spotless ("She's seen these windows before." "But Háry hasn't."). To nail paintings to the walls ("Your dad has been too busy." "For _three years?_ "). To fill an air mattress ("We've shared room for years before." "You're both adults now, and they'd want some privacy after their trip."). And so on.

Claude, Dustys eldest sister, seven years his senior, was coming to visit. With her, she was bringing her boyfriend, Háry Flores, a soldier she had met as she worked as a teacher on Silvergrove.

Their mum was convinced that they were visiting because Háry wanted to ask their dad for Claudes hand in marriage. Dusty had no idea if it was true or not that they were even planned to get married, but he knew that Claude wouldn't like to be treated so old-school, as if she was some _thing_ to be handed off from one man to another. She'd sooner sucker-punch whoever seriously suggested it than actually agree to it. So if they were, in fact, getting married, it was more likely that they were visiting to inform their parents of the fact, rather than asking for permission.

Not that it was certain that that was the case, they could just be visiting because Háry had successfully made it back alive after the last battle against the Empire, or something. But their mum was convinced, and there was no use in arguing. Dusty had tried already, when she first brought it up several days ago, and then again that morning when she told him to help her make the house ready for the visit.

When the tasks were finally done - hopefully not only for the day, but completely - Dusty was exhausted. It wasn't so much the physical labour, as it was the psychological strain of being stuck in the house with his mum.

Dusty sank down onto his bed, the bottom bunk of one of the four sleeping spots in the room he had shared with his sisters growing up. Stuck to the boards of the bed above were old articles, pictures, and pages copied or torn out of books. He had been very meticulous, filling up the space above him and beside him, just as his sisters had with posters from movies, photos with friends, and all sorts of other things easy to tape or staple to ceiling and walls. His was a thick papering, these days, old papers being covered by newer ones. Different things as he grew older. Maybe, he thought, he would take those down once he had his own place again, to see what was buried and forgotten under the outermost layers.

But that was for a different day.

The only reply he had received from the jobs he had searched was from one place that had turned him down in the first round of applications, and because he had been stuck in his parents' house all day long and made to do various things constantly, he hadn't had the time to write any more applications after the ones he had finished the day before and put in the mail on his way back after the library closed.

He was frustrated, and he was tired, and he had just had another argument with his mum. For not the first time that day, she had told him that it was time for him to get married as well. He was almost thirty, and was getting old. Which was an insult not only because it was a contradiction to how she kept calling him a child despite his age, but because he was sensitive about it and also, he had no plans on getting married in the first place, no matter how old he got! Not that he could tell her that, because she wouldn't understand.

She just talked about how beautiful Claudes wedding would be, how beautiful a bride she would make, and then about how lovely it would be to see Dusty walking down the aisle with his bride on his arm---Dusty was tired of it.

The sound of the front door opening could be heard, and then came the sound of his dads voice. Dusty pushed himself off the bed and snuck over to the door to quietly close it, then he turned the light off and retreated to bed to feign sleep. Eventually, it wouldn't be fake, though it usually took some hours and he found himself staring at the shadows created among street lights and headlights from passing cars.

And then in the morning, he would ditch the house for a while, until he had to be at the airport.

He wished he had been able to go to the library as he had several days before, and just like Monday and Tuesday, maybe the marshal had been present during the day. There was simply something... He was so damn attractive, but that wasn't the main reason why Dusty wanted to go meet him again. He was clever, fun to talk to. _Engaging_ to talk to.

Most anything was better than being stuck at his parents' house but-- even just having Marshal von Reuenthal around in the same room as focused on their own separate tasks, was way, way, _way_ better. Dusty liked it and maybe that was weird. They had been on opposing sides in several battles during the long, stupid war, but still it was so much easier to be around an enemy commander, a practical stranger except by name, than to be around his family. It shouldn't be like that, but it didn't change the fact that it _was_.


	4. Thursday (Forenoon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This day is split into several parts. Ha. Ha. Ha.

"Be a dear and pick up the cake, Dusty. Mairi is a bit under the weather and with the baby and all... We wouldn't want to risk it." So Dusty had been told, and then he had been sent out to visit his youngest sister and her husbands bakery, located in town. That was a task that Dusty didn't mind. It meant, after all, that he would be able to escape the house and his mums watchful eye.

And he needed to get a rental car anyway, because no way was he getting a taxi out to the airport and back.

He didn't need his mums gaze on him, asking when _he_ was going to give her grandchildren. He didn't need the comments about how his grandfather had been able to do this or that (like marrying, managing a family and a career at the same time) by Dustys age, and why was he not honouring his grandfathers spirit, which lived inside of him- Dusty hated it. She probably didn't mean to hurt him but after his dad had told him about Grandpa Dusty, Dustys mum had not been able to let go of it.

Only after that, Dusty had realised that his mum had been acting a bit like that even before Dusty was told to join the military.

It was weird, how you didn't notice some things before somebody else pointed them out, even if it was done subconsciously. And it was really weird that his mum was after so many years still not willing to believe that Dusty was his own person, and not his grandfathers reincarnation, how disturbing it was that she could project her memories of her father onto her son. She should talk to someone about that. A _professional_ , not Dusty, or her husband, or her friends.

So as soon as he was done with his morning ritual Dusty ditched, grabbing his bag and his wallet and hurrying toward the bus stop. He wouldn't go to the bakery right away if he could help it- if he did he would have to return to the house with the cake and then he might get trapped again. He didn't want that, he wanted- _needed_ to be away for a bit, even if he would have to be back by five. But by then, he wouldn't be alone to deal with mum and dad, Claude would be there as well, and Háry, taking some of Patrick and Bonnies attention away from Dusty and his childless bachelourhood that he had no plans of ever altering.

He got off the bus at his usual stop, and it zipped away before he realized that he should have stayed on it for a little longer. He had been caught up in his mental complaints, and his autopilot was active. But it was fine; the Goddess of Whims was smiling at him for just that moment, as he spotted Marshal von Reuenthal heading down the steps to the library. Dusty still didn't exactly know what von Reuenthal was researching, but it didn't matter. He hurried his step and called out, drawing the mans attention towards him. The way his eyebrows moved when Dusty asked, "You free right now?" was somewhat distracting. Nobody should have such interesting eyebrows. Not that they were anything out of the ordinary in terms of eyebrows but that wasn't the thing-- Anyway!

"I suppose that depends," von Reuenthal replied.

"Which means yes, so let's go."

The rank and file that had accompanied von Reuenthal were far more upset over Dusty dragging the marshal along than the marshal himself seemed to be.

"May I ask where we are headed?" asked Marshal von Reuenthal. Dusty could feel his gaze on him, and he looked over into those incredible eyes.

"I gotta pick up a car and run an errand and your presence would make that much easier to complete. After that, I'll be borrowing you for myself for a bit." Those damn eyebrows--

"Are you using my presence for your own gain, Vice Admiral Attenborough?"

Dusty grinned at von Reuenthal, absolutely no shame in him at the answer that he gave. "Clearly I am, do you even need to ask?"

The marshal shook his head slowly, a sigh slipping past his lips. There seemed to be a level of resignation in his shoulders, but not the bad sort of it. His body language was fairly subtle, but if you paid close enough attention and on top of that had attached yourself to his person, it was a bit easier to read, though of course the thoughts underneath his skull were not possible to read.

von Reuenthal let Dusty drag him along to the car rental shop, watched him as he dealt with the paperwork of it all, and followed him to the car that Dusty had been given the keys to. He seemed to be in thought, and Dusty wondered about what- when he asked, von Reuenthal only hmm'ed, his focus not fully on Dusty. Then his gaze cleared, and he looked at the soldiers that stalked them both at the moment, Dustys usual tail, and some of his own guards. They seemed far from pleased when told that they were dismissed for the time being, but they nonetheless slipped away, unable to protest the orders of their superior. Dusty blinked at von Reuenthal in surprise, even more so once von Reuenthal got into the passenger seat of the rental car. "Well?" he was prompted, and Dusty followed suit, fitting himself into the drivers seat. He was silent for a while, as he put the car into drive and pulled out of the rental parking space.

"Are you sure you should've sent away all of them?"

Dusty felt von Reuenthals gaze on him, but he only spared him a glance before returning his gaze to the road. For the moment, he felt more at ease putting his attention toward driving himself, rather than putting the car into auto-drive.

"Are you intending to try something on me?" von Reuenthal asked in return. Dusty shook his head, scowling a little, though not in the marshals direction.

"No, I have no reason to," he retorted. He saw von Reuenthal shift through the corner of his eye.

"Then I see no problem with it."

Dusty was sure that that was not true. Of course he would lie if he was actually intending to do something to the marshal. But he wasn't going to do anything. Except using him as an excuse to run his errand and get away from doing more of them after. He wasn't going to try to kill him or anything, he had no reason to and wasn't really that kind of person in the first place.

"You seem tenser than usual," von Reuenthal remarked, some moments of silence later. Of course he would notice. Dustys body language was much more open than von Reuenthals own, and even though they barely knew each other, it was apparently obvious enough that he was not at ease.

"Just a bit," Dusty turned a corner. "This is completely different from our library dates."

There was silence, for a few heartbeats.

"Are you saying that this is you taking me on a date, vice admiral?"

The corners of Dustys lips twitched into something of a wry smile. "No, I just figured it was the best comparison. I don't really take people out on dates, since it makes people expect more than I am willing to get into."

"Would that be relationships, or sex?"

Dustys lips pressed together. "Both. I'm not really interested in either." And if he went on a date with someone, those things were instantly expected of him, he knew that from several bad experiences in the past. So he just didn't do dates any more. He liked them, he liked having fun with people that he liked, and sometimes he might even have an interest in someone beyond just friendship, but he couldn't say that, because with romantic relationships came the expectation of sex. So even if he would have liked to take someone on a date, he didn't, because he didn't want all the other sticky stuff that came along with it.

He could feel the marshals gaze on him, could feel the silence weigh heavy on his shoulders. He made another turn. They were close to the bakery now, and all that was needed was a parking space.

"I can't say that I dislike sex," von Reuenthal said, finally, only after Dusty had pulled into a space and had turned off the engine. Dustys hand faltered on the key, right as he was about to take it out of the ignition. "But I am not all that keen on relationships, either." Dusty managed to calmly pull the key out, grasping it into his hand.

"Well... Your reputation does precede you, even here."

"At least among the upper layers of the military?"

"I'm not upper layer."

"Upper layer enough, I'd say. You are the youngest admiral in FPA history, it seems."

"Have you looked me up?"

"Just a smidge."

Dusty looked at von Reuenthal then, eyebrow arched. von Reuenthal looked back at him, a bit of a smile on his lips. "A smidge, huh. That's cute." Well... He wasn't really surprised. That he had looked into him, not the smidge bit. von Reuenthals smile widened a little.

"I can't say I have been called cute before."

No, that wasn't a smile, it was a smirk.

Dusty felt his face heat up, and he knew he was blushing in an unflattering kind of way. ("It's not unflattering," he had been told by Yang, but that was hardly something that Dusty could trust his opinion on. Yang was basically blind to what was flattering and unflattering, appearance-wise. "It's cute," Jessica had said, and Lappe had agreed, saying it was "super cute." He believed them more, but was still unconvinced, even years later.) He did his best to quell the blush before opening the door. "Whatever, let's go already."

Once they reached the bakery, Dustys blush had settled. The cool forenoon air helped, he thought, though maybe that was just him imagining things. The shop front to Cake-A-Licious was adorable and inviting, a joint effort made by the two owners and their similar taste in cutesy design. Dusty pulled open the door, the bell ringing a happy little tune. The inside of the shop was just as warm and welcoming as the outside, with the friendly couple managing it all by themselves, even in Mairis late stage of pregnancy. She spotted Dusty entering, and waddled around the counter towards him. "Dusty-kins!" she called, pulling him into an embrace. She was shorter than him by just a little, but considerably plusher and rounder, especially with her baby belly, though she had the same colour hair and large amount of freckles as he did.

The nickname being used in front of Marshal von Reuenthal and the other patrons of the shop made Dustys cheeks heat up once more, though not to such a degree as they had previously. "It's so nice to see you, hon." She gave him a kiss to the cheek. "And who is this? A friend of yours?" She turned to von Reuenthal, who seemed much like a deer caught in the headlights, the moment she did. Dusty had glimpsed a bit of bewildered amusement, before that.

"This is Marshal Oskar von Reuenthal, we ran into each other outside the library," Dusty introduced. "Marshal, this is my sister, Mairi Martinez."

She clasped von Reuenthals hands in hers, smiling widely at him. "It's so nice to meet one of our Dust-bunnys friends, call me Mairi, hon." And she had to use that nickname too. Rusty resisted burying his face in his hands out of embarrassment. von Reuenthal looked a bit like he didn't really know how to react. Not used to the kind of woman that Mairi was? Not expecting her to call him Dustys friend? Not used to being hon'ed? Not expecting to not even having her react to the fact that the person her brother brought with him was clearly a high ranked Imperial soldier?

Whatever the case, the fish-out-of-water von Reuenthal was soon replaced with a smooth, polite von Reuenthal. "The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Martinez," he said, a smoothness to his voice and motions that he hadn't used towards Dusty. It suited his sleek, elegant appearance, but there was something that felt off about it, to Dusty. Something... false. von Reuenthal lifted Mairis hand to give a kiss to the back of it- Dusty noticed that the patrons watching them seemed flustered with witnessing the action, though Mairi took it in stride.

"Just Mairi, no need to Mrs. me. A friend of my brothers is a friend of mine. Now! You're here to pick up the cake, no? I'll go get it for you, just give me a minute. Do you eat blueberries, hon?" The last question was directed at von Reuenthal, who blinked and nodded. "Any allergies?" He retorted with a _no_. "Excellent."

Mairi waddled off. Behind her back, von Reuenthal turned his gaze toward Dusty, who ran a hand through his hair, pausing mid-motion. "What?"

"Your sister is a bit of a whirlwind, I believe."

Dusty shrugged. "You ain't seen nothin' yet," he remarked. von Reuenthals eyebrow rose. Dusty almost wanted to tell him to stop doing that, since it was so distracting. "There's nothing 'a bit' about it, she's full-blown." There was was silence, and then another eyebrow shift. "What?"

"How refreshing."

Dusty frowned. "What is?"

"Nothing."

Dustys eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Uh-huh, sure it's nothing."

Mairi approached once more, two bags in hand. "Here you go, Dusty-kins, I put in some treats for the two of you as well." Treats, she said...

"I'm not a kid any more, sis..."

"Of course I know that, hon, but I haven't been able to give you treats regularly since you went off to the academy." She patted his cheek, and ruffled his hair.

"Thanks, then. Anyway, mum said you were feeling under the weather, but you seem just fine."

Mairi grimaced, just a bit. "To be honest, the stress isn't good for the baby, particularly since my due date is closing in. You'll help me babysit once it's out, I hope."

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it."

"Very good, now off you boys go, I have work to do, shoo."

Dusty laughed, and allowed himself to be ushered out of the shop. von Reuenthal, too, followed suit.

Once outside, they both fell into silence. Dusty thought about what Mairi meant with stress. He knew that she had jumped on the chance to move out, the moment she went to culinary school and was offered a dorm room. But he was away from Heinessen so much that he didn't know what his siblings relationships with their parents were, exactly, this last decade or so. Their mum being so overjoyed about her first grandchild probably had something to do with it, though. Beside him, von Reuenthal seemed just as much in thought as Dusty was.

They were silent, even once getting into the car and Dusty steering back onto the road.

"I haven't been called a boy since I actually was one," von Reuenthal eventually said. The bag with the cake box sat in his lap, so it wouldn't slide around and get ruined during the trip. "What a peculiar thing." He sounded distant, as if he was still somewhere else in his thoughts. Dusty wondered what was in front of his eyes, reflecting on the glass window.

"Yeah, she does that. You get used to it. You alright?"

von Reuenthal blinked, and it was as if he was emerging from a woken dream. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you," he assured, though Dusty wasn't convinced. Being called a boy despite his age had done something to him, that much was clear. Dusty took one hand off the steering wheel and, without really giving it a second thought, reached to take and lightly squeeze von Reuenthals hand with his. He blinked rapidly, then pulled his hand away when his action caught up with him. "Uh, sorry." He decided to put in auto-drive. His mind clearly wasn't in the driving, and that was dangerous. von Reuenthal shook his head, just briefly, but didn't say anything. That distant look slipped into his eyes once more as Dusty watched him, and again, Dusty wondered why. Was it something that had happened when he was a boy that he remembered? Was there something connected to the last time he had been called one? But he didn't ask. They didn't know each other like that. They had hung out in the library for several hours for two days, that was all there was to their relationship, and that didn't make them close enough to ask things like that. Dusty turned his gaze away from von Reuenthal, toward the road that the car was driving them along. Boyhood times, huh...

They had been alright, on his part. But there had been things that weren't great, though he hadn't realized it until later, when he was a bit older. The different ways that his parents raised him to the way they raised his sisters, the comments that he hadn't recognized for what they were until he suddenly remembered them years later. The punch he had received from one of his girl friends when she had said she wanted to marry to him when they grew up and he had said "no thanks" because even then, he had had no interest in marriage, though he hadn't really understood it back then. She had ended their friendship over it, too. The other children teasing him because he mostly hung out with girls, and because he liked poetry, and being called a girl because of it. His parents not really defending his stance when he had told them; they thought he should be more like other boys. They thought he shouldn't play dress-up with his sisters, or wear their dresses, even though it made him feel pretty. His sisters called him pretty, why couldn't they? Though that bit was not something that he did any more, even if he knew that he would have no issue with putting on a dress even now. And because of his job he had more male friends than he used to have... Why did most of his girl friends feel the need to ask him out, over the years? As a result of him turning them down one by one, he barely had any of them left any more. Life... Life was so much different now, from when he was a child, yet still it was a lot the same, and so very impacted by it.

Dusty was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt the car pull to a stop. He looked up, and they were outside his parents house, on the quiet suburban street he had grown up on. Dusty undid his seat belt and reached over for the cake bag. "I'll be right back," he told von Reuenthal, who looked like he also had just been brought out of his thoughts. The marshal nodded, and Dusty closed the car door behind him. "Mum, I have the cake," he called once he opened the front door.

A minute later, she reached him and took it, though she gave him a wondering look. "Why are your shoes still on?" She asked, and Dusty shrugged.

"I've got an acquaintance waiting in the car," he told her. She frowned.

"Not a girl, is it? I can't have you disappear off on a date today, Dusty."

It threw Dusty off, that she suddenly said that. He watched her, wary. "No, it's just a friend, we'll be hanging out for a bit until I go to the airport." She nodded.

"Very good. Remember not to go after girls while you're out."

It was weird. Usually she said the opposite. It was very, very suspicious, and he had an idea of what was going on in her head. "Right.." He held back the frustration and annoyance, not wanting her to call him out on it. "I'll be off, then. See you later." He slipped off as fast as he could, though she might have heard him slam the car door. von Reuenthal jumped a little, not expecting it. "Let's go on a date."

von Reuenthals face took on a very startled expression. "I thought you didn't like dates."

Dusty gritted his teeth, and took some slow breaths to calm himself. "Yes, but mum said I can't go on one today, so clearly I have to now. She's up to something. She always wants me to try to get dates with girls, and now she's telling me not to. She's probably going to try to set me up with someone again." He tapped in an address into the GPS. He was growing calmer, after getting out of her presence.

"Again?"

Dusty nodded. The car started moving, and Dusty let out a relieved sigh. "So, wanna go on one? As friends?" von Reuenthal blinked slowly.

"We are friends, now?"

Dusty slumped back into the seat. "My sister seems to think so, so I think maybe we can go with that. But if you'd rather not.."

For a few moments, von Reuenthal was quiet, as he watched Dusty. "No... It's fine, I don't mind. We're friends going on a date, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter, they are going on a Spite Date.
> 
> When I reached Mairi waddling off to get the cake and muffins, one of my cats joined me for a bit. He was very unhelpful, I can tell you.


	5. Thursday (Noon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so good at consistent updates. I got a lot of this written today though, despite one of my cats insisting on interrupting me by planting his paws or his but or his elbow places where those things shouldn't be.
> 
> 27/1, -21, edits a bit, makes it gayer.

The sun was starting to warm nicely, where it filtered through the canopy of trees above them. It was uneven, sometimes leaving them bathed in the light, sometimes casting them mostly in shadow. The path up was even more uneven, the terrain one to keep an eye on, or else one might risk a twisted ankle or soaked-through shoe.

"So, vice admiral," came von Reuenthals voice from Dustys left, and Dusty looked over at him. The marshal was keeping his eyes on the terrain, having early on found how wobbly the foot-hold could be in places. "You never clarified." Dusty hummed in question. "Why are we climbing a mountain?"

Dusty had parked the car by a rest-stop some ways away from his parents' house, had grabbed the bag his sister had given them before, and had led von Reuenthal down a hiking trail. Soon, he had turned off of it, right into the density of the forest, and had headed up the mountain, rather than around it, as the trail would have led them that way. The path was a familiar one to Dusty, one he could take even in the middle of the night if he had to. And it had happened in the past that he had needed to find his way during pitch black darkness, there.

"Because it's a way better climb than the paved path up," he explained. He turned around, crouching on an outcrop that was steep and high. After a few moments of looking at him, von Reuenthal grasped the hand that Dusty offered him, and followed Dusty up onto the jutting cliff. The hand that grasped his was dry and solid. "Besides, this path's way more scenic."

von Reuenthal stood close to him after scaling the cliff, and for a few seconds, neither released their hold of the others hand. von Reuenthal was looking at him with a searching look, one that Dusty couldn't help but wonder about--- and also think was intriguing. It was those damn eyebrows over those damn eyes, he decided. The man simply had to be gorgeous, on top of being clever. He could feel his breath, and the steady heave of his chest. The shadows were shifting over his face. The outline of leaves left a path of sunlight on his skin. It looked soft.

"Is that so?" There was an upturn to one corner of von Reuenthals mouth, and there was a little divet in his cheek then. A dimple? He had a dimple. On both sides? Just the one? It was cute. "Hmm?" Dusty shook his head, and took a step back, finally releasing von Reuenthals hand.

"Nothin'." He wasn't sure- had he said that out loud? Quietly out loud, at least. Well, either way, it _was_ cute, there was no altering that.

Dusty could feel Reuenthals gaze lingering on him for a little while, as he headed along the unmarked path well-known to him. He glanced over his shoulder, calling, "you coming, or what?" von Reuenthal moved, following him up the mountain. Dusty shot a cheerful grin his way, before continuing to lead the way.

They made their way up another outcrop, onto a slim ledge and von Reuenthal eyed the tree that clung to the cliff wall that Dusty climbed up to reach a flat surface too high up to reach normally. "You look lighter than I am," Dusty remarked. The look of skepticism aimed at the old tree was kind of funny. "Plus, it's a pretty hardy tree." von Reuenthal remained where he were.

Dusty slid back down the steep cliff, foregoing the tree on the way down. He pulled von Reuenthal toward the tree. "Or did you want to take the less scenic route? Not that the actual road isn't nice to look at but it doesn't beat this view." von Reuenthal searched Dustys face again, a bit of a frown on his perfectly lovely brow. Dusty tipped his head to the side, facing his gaze in askance. "I said before that I'm not gonna try anything, you know. Not that you have any reason to believe me. Though, I may be an idiot, but I'm not stupid." Dusty leaned against the rock wall, at ease on the slim ledge. He still kept his gaze on von Reuenthal, and von Reuenthal had not yet pulled his hand out of Dustys grasp. It was a strange feeling, to be alone in such a precarious setting with a man who had until so recently been a enemy of war, had very nearly actually gotten Dusty killed, though von Reuenthal was unlikely to know that, but Dusty felt comfortable. His old man would have blown up at him for it. Not that he cared- the older he got the more spiteful he became, when he more and more understood that Patrick didn't give a damn about what Dusty wanted or felt.

A questioning look flickered across von Reuenthals face, and Dusty made an inquiring sound. von Reuenthal was leaning against the stone with one shoulder, his sharp gaze unshifting. "What was that look?"

Dusty blinked, rapidly, several times. "Huh? Look? What look?"

von Reuenthal shifted, resting his back against the cliff wall, just as Dusty were. His gaze turned down for a brief moment, and as if realising only then that they were still holding hands, he pulled his away, out of Dustys. It was a loss, Dusty felt. Even more than the time just some minutes before, when they had stood so very close after scaling one of the ledges below. This had felt more intimate. von Reuenthals gaze returned to Dustys. "For a moment, you seemed angry." He frowned. "Yet also amused."

Dusty breathed out a silent, "oh," and he made a face. "Well, I thought that if my folks knew about this, they'd get really pissed, and that's kind of annoying and funny at the same time."

"Do you antagonise them purposefully?"

Dusty sucked in his cheeks, and he shrugged. He released his cheeks with a slight 'pop'. "If they antagonise me, I'll antagonise them back." He tilted his head. "You okay?"

von Reuenthal had let out a short, dry "hah," that didn't sound too amused. More.. sad. Or mad. Upset. "I'm fine." It was a lie. Dusty didn't really know the man well, beyond the tactics executed on the battlefield, and the time they had spent together these last few days. Two days. And then not even enough of that to count as one full day. Barely half a day. Not even half? But he could tell that it was a lie. Still, he let the man change the subject, because there was a tenseness in his shoulders that spoke volumes more than what his words did. "It is quite the view."

His gaze had drifted away, out into the distance. Dusty let his own do the same. Below them, the mountain was dressed in trees, some which reached past their feet. The summer was in full bloom, coating the trees in all manner of greens, spreading fields of flowers around the well-maintained houses below. There was an artificial lake, far in the distance. The sky was a clear blue, with soft white cotton clouds trailing soft lines only here and there above. The forest ended just below the mountain, as if a different world just suddenly started and ended within it, a small bubble away from the rest of humanity, from all the pressure that weighed heavy on peoples shoulders.

"Mmh," Dusty hummed. "It's a nice place to just get away, sometimes." von Reuenthal hummed in return, acknowledging Dustys words but not pursuing them further. For a long time, the silence stretched out between them. It didn't feel uncomfortable. It just, it simply _was_ , like there was no need to fill it with words. Thoughts drifting with the fleeting clouds, never forming on the tongue.

The silence was broken by a rumbling sound, and Dusty laughed. He didn't bother covering the sound up. "Should we eat? I know we're not at the top but just above us is a nice spot to sit. I promise, the tree'll hold." von Reuenthal tilted his head to the side. Dusty noticed that his perfectly made hair had started to become mussed, from the treck, from just standing there for so long with the breeze caressing them.

"And if it doesn't?"

Dusty patted himself on the chest, with more Poplin zest than Dusty zest, though he supposed they influenced each other, as much as they had hung out on Iserlohn. "No matter if I'm behind you or in front of you, I'll catch you if that happens."

von Reuenthals lips twitched, not quite into one of those smiles of his. "How reliable."

They made it up to the broader ledge safely though, with no need for anyone to make any catching. Dusty sat down directly on the ground, which after a moment von Reuenthal followed suit, though with more care where he sat. Dusty didn't particularly care if his clothes got dirty - he was sure that either way, his mum would make him change when he returned - but von Reuenthal took care with his uniform, though his jacket lay in Dustys bag since a while back.

Mairi had put both muffins and cookies in the paper bag she sent with them, together with juice boxes. When Dusty saw it, he had snorted in amusement, and had to explain to von Reuenthal, "She's packed the exact same thing she used to years ago. Even though neither of us're kids. Do you want apple juice or pear juice?" von Reuenthal had opted for apple, as he silently observed Dusty.

"Has she always done this?" he asked eventually, as he picked on the wrapping to a blueberry muffin.

"Mh," Dusty swallowed, and nodded. "Since she's always liked baking. I kinda was her test subject? When she tried making her own recipes or experimenting with existing ones? It was great when it was a success buuut, I did get food poisoning more than once...trice...many times. Well, I preferred hanging around reading or whatever anyway, so I wasn't as upset as I probably might've been had I actually been a sporty kid. About getting sick, I mean."

von Reuenthal chewed as he listened, then took a sip of the juice. It felt like a novel experience, to get to see the great Imperial Marshal von Reuenthal drink from a little straw. "If you weren't a sporty kid, then how did you end up here?" Dusty blinked, looked around.

"Here as in, on this mountain? Well, first off there's the art gallery up top, I won a price in a writing competition and the top entries were displayed there when I was... Uh.. seven? Or eight, somewhere around there." He didn't mention the diary that he had buried among his things, where he had written about the day. Those diaries had been tainted, after his mum had read them one day when he was fifteen. It had taken a while, until he could write in them again. "We came up the normal route- with my class, which.... I could've done without because writing poetry is apparently girly and kids are terrible bullies, but well, I liked the view from there. Wanted to go again, but nobody wanted to take me. So I went alone, one day. Got lost for a bit, broke my arm, made it back home, got yelled at. But, well, I'm kinda stubborn, so I came again and again, and figured out this path through trial and error and some more broken bones. Then it just, kinda, became my place of refuge, to climb this side of the mountain."

For several long, quiet moments, von Reuenthal simply looked at him. "How are you not dead?" Dusty coughed, as a sharp breath had made him choke on some crumbs. Once his coughs eased up some, he burst out laughing. No holding back that explosion, there was no need.

"Y-yeah," he stuttered, as his laughter calmed. "I wonder that too sometimes. I'd say pure dumb luck. I was bloody _tiny_ as a kid, too, how I managed to get up some places is still a mystery to me."

"And you weren't stopped from returning?" von Reuenthal finally asked, and Dusty shook his head.

"They had no idea this was where I went, and I'll have you know I'm still kinda slippery."

von Reuenthal hmm'ed, and he grasped the finger Dusty had raised. Dusty felt his face heat up, and he withdrew his hand, curling his fingers into a loose fist of embarrassment. He hadn't realised he ha been gesturing again. He cleared his throat, eyeing von Reuenthal back. "What's with that look?" von Reuenthal shrugged, picked up a berry-and-leaf-patterned cookie, and bit down on it. He swallowed it down before he responded.

"I was trying to figure out which fleet might have been the most slippery one among those that I've fought these last few years."

Dusty let out a snort, that puffed up his cheeks and gave him, for a short moment, an ear blockage. It disappeared when he rubbed his ear, but he gave a bit of a glare von Reuenthals way. It probably didn't look that convincing or aggressive, because Dusty could tell that he was pouting. "In general, the Yang fleet's good at those stuff, so." They all had their own specialities, of course. Dusty being good at running away, or faking running away, for example.

"Indeed. Does Marshal Yangs talents rub off, perhaps?"

Dusty snorted again. "Unlike your Kaiser, the only thing impressive about Upperclassman Yang is his head and his wife. She really married down." He laughed at the expression on von Reuenthals face. "If you'd ever actually met him, you'd understand what I mean." He disparaged Yang with affection, though. von Reuenthal seemed lost on how to react to that, to his words and his tone.

After a few moments of silence, not so uncomfortable as it should have been after the last exchange, von Reuenthal spoke again. "'Upperclassman' Yang?" he asked, head tilted and pretty mismatched eyes on Dusty. They were caught by the sunlight, and Dusty had to stumble, before he found his words. "He was my upperclassman at the officers academy. First time we met, he caught me sneaking in past curfew. Didn't report me even though he definitely should have, because that became a habit." He grinned at von Reuenthals amused, befuddled expression. Really, he made such amazing expressions. "I got to sneak out with him and Upperclassman Lappe, too. A lot of memorable nights, back then." His shoulders sank with the last sentence, nostalgia creeping into his voice. Those days were long gone, and both Lapp and Jessica were gone, too. They were times that would never come back, even in a gathering of exchanged memories.

Dusty blinked, his gaze clearing. He looked over toward von Reuenthal and noticed him just silently observing him. "Hmm?" von Reuenthal shook his head.

"No, never mind."

Silence fell once more. Time trickled by. They could see cars down far below, ant-sized humans interacting.

Dusty pointed out his parents' house, far off.

"Quite the walking distance for a child," von Reuenthal commented, to which Dusty laughed.

"Yeah, but when you wanna get out, you wanna get out." von Reuenthal gave him a questioning look, a bit of a scowl to it. "I said before, that this was my refuge. Just about every time I ran away, I'd end up here. Calmed me down. Though I guess I got sick from staying the night in the tree on more than one occasion." He nodded toward the old, hardy tree they had climbed to reach the little plateau they now sat on. "It was worth it, though."

Instead of a response, von Reuenthal lapsed into another silence. It seemed more troubled than the ones before, and Dusty was about to ask, about to change the subject, he wasn't really sure which, when von Reuenthal, gaze locked on the sky, spoke quietly, in his deep voice. "If I had ever tried to do that, my father would probably have killed me."

'That?' Running away? von Reuenthal didn't sound like he was doubting that. He really thought that if he had tried to run away, his father would have taken his life. For wanting to flee? For something so simple, something that any kid wanted to do, at least at some point? "That fucking sucks."

von Reuenthal looked away from the sky - though Dusty wondered if he had even seen it, and not something else, or another sky - his expression startled. So open, in that moment. Vulnerable. _So beautiful,_ Dustys mind quipped, unhelpfully. "That.." von Reuenthals voice came out hesitant. Different from what it had sounded like before. "...sucks?"

Dusty nodded. "Yeah. What else is there to say? I'm sorry. It really does suck that you'd have to deal with that."

von Reuenthal looked away, his hands sliding into his lap. "You don't know what I had to deal with," he protested.

"You're right, I don't. But if you felt like you couldn't do something so natural, so necessary, as escaping everything for a little while, then.." He could imagine-- but he didn't say that. "Everyone should have a place to flee to for a while. To just be alone, and not feel.. everything the world's throwing at them. This was my place. That you didn't have one, or the chance to find one... That really, fucking, sucks."

Silence, once more. If Dusty hadn't been watching von Reuenthal, he wouldn't have noticed the way his shoulders shook, for just a moment. Maybe wouldn't have heard the quiet, bitter laugh, either. But he did. And he said nothing about it. von Reuenthal ran a hand over his face. It stayed over his mouth, only falling when he spoke. "It's about time to head back. I have work to return to. And you... needed to go to the airport?"

Dusty sighed, and he was unable to help the groan that came with it. "It's that time already?" It was. He would need to head straight for the airport, once they were down.

They packed up. von Reuenthal pulled on his jacket to protect against the declining temperature. Dusty showed him the way back down the mountain, how to avoid the most precarious foot-holds, and find the safest path. It took a while, though not exactly as long as the climb up had.

They were close to the fringe of the forest, when Dustys hand grasped von Reuenthals. von Reuenthal stopped, turning to look back at Dusty. Where they stood, they were still hidden from sight by the thick vegetation. "I won't, tell anyone. I just wanted to.. say that." He could feel von Reuenthals fingers twitch underneath his own. Then settle, lightly curled.

"Good. Or else I'll have to arrest you for breaking the Bharat Treaty and the Insurrection Act."

Dusty snorted, a smile tugging at his lips. "Such abuse of power," he said jokingly. He felt von Reuenthals fingers twitch tighter against his hand. Dustys expression turned serious, and reassuring, as he met von Reuenthals gaze. He found it impossible to read, in that moment. "But really, those words will stay up there, on that cliff. You have my word."

Moments later, von Reuenthal pulled his hand free from Dustys. "And your pity?" That bitter, bitter sound in his voice, again. It hurt, hearing it. It made Dusty want to sucker-punch the person responsible- von Reuenthals father? But that was impossible.

Dustys hand reached out, grasping von Reuenthals shoulder, and he made the man turn to fully look at him. "Sympathy isn't pity, marshal. And look. Look at what you've made of yourself. You can have any hiding spot in the universe, now."

The corners of von Reuenthals mouth twitched. Dusty couldn't tell if it was in an attempt to smile, or something else. There was such loneliness in his eyes. Such guilt. "Yours, too?"

Dusty found his hand wrapped around von Reuenthals again, lightly squeezing. "I don't mind sharing, sometimes. Make sure you're careful where you put your feet, though."

von Reuenthal did smile then, just briefly, and he hummed in acknowledgement. When he freed his hand once more, he almost seemed at ease. "I suppose I'll have my men pick me up from the airport," he announced, as if they hadn't spoken about a deep-seated trauma laying beneath the surface, just moments before.


	6. Thursday (Afternoon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised that I a long time ago should have added the Post-Canon spoilers tag for later chapter(s), so that has been added. Those things won't be in the story this exact moment, but they'll be showing up in the last couple chapters.
> 
> I got stuck with the writing after getting wrapped up in it after my dad, despite knowing I'd say no, asked if I wanted coffee. I am very much of the same opinion as Yang on that matter. It also extends to tea though (blasphemy!). So I've been going through and editing previous chapters a bit while trying to find that mood again.

Dusty was left in a bit of a daze, when he parted with von Reuenthal. It was automatically that he replied to Claudes inquiry about who the handsome fellow he was hanging in the car with was, telling her exactly who it was.

"Did I interrupt something?" she asked.

"Yes-" Dusty said, before he caught himself and amended, "No, don't worry about it." She looked at him with doubt written all over her face.

"Right, if you say so." Her voice held an unspoken, _sure, you little brat,_ though not in a terribly unkind way. Just a bit of it was there, though. Something nasty was bubbling under the surface, and she seemed to be suppressing a bad mood.

Overlapping his sisters unsaid words were the marshals spoken ones, the expression on his face. _Today wasn't so bad. Overall, I at least didn't dislike this date. Not that I have been to many._ When Dusty had asked, _despite your reputation?_ he had seen a complicated, unreadable expression pass over von Reuenthals face. _It's rarely been about anything but the carnal pleasures. You don't need dates for that._

For some reason, those words, the pain he could just barely tell was there, that he didn't know the root cause of, made Dusty want to touch him. To simply cup his cheeks in his hands and lean forehead to forehead and give reassurances. He didn't, but it was hard to resist the urge.

And then Claude had knocked on the window, startling them apart- because though Dusty hadn't leaned in that close, apparently he (at least it probably was him) had slipped his hand into von Reuenthals, and their fingers had very nearly been intertwined, resting near the cars handlebreak. He wished she hadn't shown up, then. He wondered what would have been said, if they had been given more time.

"Are we going, or...?" Claudes voice brought Dusty back to the present. He blinked rapidly, turned to her, and only then realised that she was alone.

"What about Háry?"

A weird expression of, _fuck that_ and _I don't wanna talk about it_ crossed her face, bringing the nasty closer to the surface. "He's not coming," she said. Irritated, she waved him off when he opened his mouth to push. "Let's just go, alright? Get this over with." Something definitely happened. He eyed her for a few moments, then started the car. Once out of the airport parking lot, he could have put in auto-drive, but he opted not to. Because if he was going to push, it was better he was actually the one in control of the car. Then she couldn't hit him, without risking an accident. Like that one time-... She wouldn't forget that one, either, and likely wouldn't do anything to risk it happening again.

"Did you get dumped?"

Anger flashed in her eyes, and Dusty knew it was the right choice to keep the car in manual drive. She crossed her arms, fingers burrowing into her blouse. "Well fuck you too," she grumbled. As ladylike as ever. While Dusty had been reprimanded for being girly, she had lived it up as a tomboy, getting into the brawls their parents wished Dusty would get into. Though when he _did_ get into fights, he was scolded for not controlling his temper. Even though his was tame, in comparison to his eldest sisters.

"Did you dump him?"

She huffed, angrily. "I _said_ , shut up."

Dusty flipped on the blinkers, and turned onto another street. "Actually, you said, 'well fuck you too'," he pointed out. She bared her teeth at him.

"You always gotta be so picky with words," she scoffed.

Dusty sucked on his tongue, and shrugged. "Well, I like words. But I'm not the one supposedly coming to ask about getting married, here. Kinda hard to do that without the guy involved." Technically not, but it was important to their parents. It was what Hugo had done when he and Mairi had decided to get married- as far as their parents knew, at least. Hugo had already asked her and they had chosen rings together, they simply pandered to the Attenboroughs' traditionalist values. Which Dusty had outright told them he thought was ridiculous, because their parents had absolutely no say, but Mairi had wanted to keep the peace where she could. She was very different from Dusty, that way. She was the one of their siblings who was the least of a troublemaker. Dusty was pretty sure that he was seen as the worst of them, simply because he was a boy, and Claude was a girl, and they had special expectation of him his whole life.

Claude was glaring at him, her arms crossed. "I've never even implied that's what was up," she commented. Dusty shrugged again.

"Why're you telling _me_ that?"

Claude was clearly not liking that response. Even though it wasn't Dusty who had put that thought in Bonnies head.

"Says the guy hanging out with an _Imperial marshal_ ," she said with a scoff. "Your gayness stops you from having any bloody judgement of character or creed." She scoffed again. "Out of any person, you gotta go throw heart-eyes at an Imperial. Where the hell did your upbringing go wrong."

Dusty squeezed the steering wheel tightly in his hands. He could see his knuckles whiten. "As if you know anything about his character or creed." All she knew was his name and his looks, and nothing else. And she didn't have to call out how gay Dusty was. She didn't even get that sexual attraction and romantic attraction was different, for him. She just thought that every guy he liked at all was a guy he wanted to fuck. She didn't get it, and just like their parents, she didn't care to try to understand. And she knew even less about von Reuenthal. Even Dusty knew more, and he knew barely anything.

"I don't _need_ to know. An Imperial is an Imperial. Peace be damned, Dusty, you'll get yourself killed. I bet he's already even tried, and you're just to damn _dumb_ to realise it."

Dusty wanted to toss her out the car and go to Yang, to complain about her the way he used to, before Yang was married and busy with life. More stupidly, he wanted to go find the marshal again, and-- and, what? Cup his face in his hands and just look into his eyes, try to figure out the exact name of the colours they were? Colour theory and names and all that was Linz' thing, not his. He only knew a few different shades of blue, maybe three browns. Cinnamon, caramel, mocha-- His fingers hurt from how tightly they clenched to the wheel.

"That's pretty damn bigoted, sis. Remind me never to let you meet any of the Rosen Ritter." He was deflecting, trying to at least divert the subject from the marshal. He would need to buy a round for his Rosen Ritter friends, next time he had a chance, as an apology for using them to change the direction of the conversation.

He saw Claude absently scratch her neck. "I'm not a bigot, Dust," He hated that nickname, so half-assed, and it made him feel as though he really was nothing more important than a speck of dust. "It's just fact that those that've defected once are likely to do it again." A couple rounds.

"It's not a fact. They work so much harder than anyone else to get where they are and the reward they get is shit like what you spout, without even knowing them or their stories. There have been former imperials that've defected to the empire, yes. But there are also plenty of others who've done the same. And there are far more former Imperials that're working their whole lives to be seen with anything besides suspicion, undeserving of your reproach. In the first place, we're also descended from people who once lived in the Empire, so by your logic, does that mean you'll be next in line to jump this sunken ship?" He was petty. Very petty. He didn't care. She looked like she wanted to punch him so bad.

"Obviously not," she snarled. "We're descended from the people who gave birth to the Free Planets Alliance. It's obviously different."

Dusty had to huff, a laugh lacking any cheer. "Yeah right. Everyone likes to say they're descended from someone from the Exodus Fleet, and the old man even confessed that he's never seen any proof of that being true for our family. Very few can actually show that they're genuinely of this whole revered 'Exodus Status'. We definitely can _not_ do so."

"Blasphemor."

"Blasphem _er_ ," he corrected. She'd called him that before. Had always gotten it wrong. He should have gotten over correcting her the first time she broke his nose over it. Her already dark expression darkened even more. _Don't let the light turn red,_ he prayed to whatever deity might potentially exist. "Arle Heinessen was not a cult leader, and democracy isn't a cult doctrine." Some people went way too far, with their Arle Heinessen worship. Like the fanatics in the PKC.

She snapped words at him. He snapped back at her.

They eventually hit a red light, and when they reached their parents' house, he already had a sizeable black eye forming.

Sometimes, the whole sibling thing could be kind of shit.

.

.

.

.

.

Bonnie fussed, as she forced both her children into nice clothes and neat, combed hair-styles. She didn't like that she had to let Dusty put on makeup, to cover the fresh blemish on his face. He didn't listen to a word she said, just went with the motion of letting her dress him up. Dusty thought he looked ridiculous. Not as ridiculous as Yang looked with his hair slicked back or Poplin looked in pigtails, but still, ridiculous. The fact that she was still forcing them to nicen up even though Háry wasn't visiting made Dusty sure that this dinner was for more than just the expected request for marriage that never even had been on the table.

He was not surprised to be told to open the door when it rang, and meet a mother and daughter pair on the doorstep. He wasn't pleased, but he wasn't surprised. She couldn't have chosen someone less... someone less of a person that Dusty literally had babysat since she was zero years old, at least?

"Mrs. Wyatt. Justine. Hello."

His mum thwacked him over the head with her open palm for simply standing in the door, letting the two women stand at the doorstep outside, watched by the Imperial soldier that had reappeared at some point.

"Dusty, move to the side so they can come inside. Lucy, it's so nice of you to come. Justine, sweetie, you look lovely. Is that a new dress? Dusty, isn't her dress nice?"

Dusty took note more of the fact that there was only one guard, than he did of his mums guests' appearances. Was that the marshals influence? Was Lennenkampf the type of person who'd appreciate his jurisdiction being overridden? He doubted that. "Yeah, sure." He was once more thwacked over the head. If she kept doing that, he was going to get a headache.

His mum insisted he and Justine sat next to each other. Had he not been so painfully aware of why, maybe he wouldn't have minded. In the past, he had gotten along with Justine just fine. But she'd been a kid, and he'd just liked hanging out with someone who wasn't expecting him to confess his feelings to her. Maybe he had just been oblivious, because Justine now looked nervous, as she sat silently next to him. He wanted to leave. Maybe she just outright knew what was up. He wished that it would at least be said, so he could say no.

Dusty was quiet, as his parents and Mrs. Wyatt prattled on about various things. Never getting to the point. Dusty only half-listened, as his mind drifted to more interesting things. The marshals eyes. Old conversations with Yang, Lappe, and Jessica. Arguments with Poplin that Konev laughed at. Hauling Schönkopf and Poplin apart when _they_ were arguing, Yang being absolutely no help at all. The marshals hands. Being called to the principals-- Murais office over some stupid things he and Poplin had gotten up to. Battles light-years away. The marshals voice.

He realised that he always came back to Marshal von Reuenthal, and with a sigh, he allowed it. It was silly, to long for someone you barely knew, and had seen only a few hours ago.

"Dusty, you were asked a question."

Dusty snapped back to attention just as he felt he might melt at the memory of the marshals lips twitching up in an almost-smile. "Huh?"

"Don't you think your sister would look lovely in your mothers wedding dress?" Patrick asked, eyeing Dusty with a look of _you better agree_. Dusty picked at his food. He remembered when he was younger, listening to his sisters actually discuss their mums wedding dress as she had left the room to talk to a neighbour, leaving the dress out for the girls to try and show her how they looked in it. Claude had been the one liking it the least.

Dusty also remembered that he had looked lovelier in it. He had intended to not let Bonnie see him wear it, but she had, and that was the longest time he had been grounded. During his year as fourteen, at least. He had never risked wearing women clothing when his parents might bust him again, after that. He hated that he had allowed them to scare him out of experimenting with his own feelings regarding the matter.

"Uh. I guess?" He received some displeased looks. He couldn't help adding, "But there are a lot of other options, too." Somehow, that seemed to make certain people even less pleased. Not that he was surprised.

"Perhaps. It would just be nice to see our oldest daughter in my dress on her wedding day."

"But not your oldest son?"

The look he was given then was priceless. So dark. Threats of _don't you dare_ and _don't be like this in front of our guests_ , which only made Dusty square his jaw and stare back at his parents stubbornly. Beside him, Justine seemed confused. Mrs. Wyatt laughed uncomfortably.

"Don't be silly." Bonnie finally said, with a laugh that Dusty could hear ring in his ears with its fake amusement. "But your bride would be gorgeous in her mothers dress." Dusty thought that finally, they were getting somewhere, and he opened his mouth to ask _what bride? I don't have one_ when suddenly, Bonnies attention shifted with a sigh passing her lips. She was suddenly genuine, again. "It's a pity Háry isn't feeling well. I hope he'll feel better soon. It would have been nice to see what he'd think. Will he be wearing his uniform?"

"Mmmmh," Claude hummed in thought. So she had lied and said that Háry couldn't come because he was sick. Because that was going to solve everything. Dusty blinked, when she looked up and met his gaze. "I bet Dustys new beau will wear his when they get married." Dusty could practically _feel_ the confusion swirl around the table. He bristled, shooting Claude a warning look. "I found him hanging out with an Imperial Marshal."

"What!?"

"Dusty?!"

Dusty very nearly yelled _traitor!_ at Claude but he wasn't five any more and knew how to handle his temper most of the time. Even if he actually would be able to cross the table with one leap, these days. It wasn't his fault that their parents still thought she was getting married, that she was still with Háry- she just could correct them, but no, she had to deflect instead, throwing him under a huge frigging bus. Fucking.... _siblings!_

Dusty took a deep breath to compose himself. He'd be berated either way, but it would only be worse if he snapped. "I told you before, mum, that I was gonna hang out with a friend. You might not believe it or like it, but Marshal von Reuenthal is quite pleasant to be around." Dusty figured that they were going to ask who (and there really were only so many options), and Claude was going to tell (since she'd already started), so he might as well make the conscious choice to tell them himself, at least.

"Dusty," his dad snapped, showing how much better than Dusty he was at not controlling his temper. Patrick glowered. "What is the meaning of this?"

"It means we came across each other and since I respect his abilities as a tactician, I didn't want to be rude." He had been rude. But well, it had been something like that. He did respect his skill on the battlefield, that part was true. And-- Dusty grinned, a devilish feeling in his gut that he thought might be showing as a gleam in his eyes. "And he's _very_ handsome. If he were a painting, I'd never tire looking at him. And I don't think I will, even more because he's an actual flesh and blood living person."

His parents were clearly appalled. Dusty knew he would be in so much trouble, but--- he recalled the look on Marshal von Reuenthals face when he asked if Dusty antagonised his parents on purpose ---it didn't matter if he would get in trouble, since he already would be in it anyway. What was a little more fuel to the flame, at this point?

"Do you know how many people that man has gotten killed?" Patrick asked. Dusty scoffed. His fingers clenched around his knife and fork.

"Do you know how many people _I_ have gotten killed?" The way that the faces around him paled. Dusty had thought about that before. His old man wrote so much disparaging stuff about the military, but how much did he really understand that Dusty was one of them, those despicable people leading people to their deaths? Was it just something that none of them wanted to face? Was it that they didn't want to think of the enemies killed as human lives lost? While commenting on how many lives of their own people were lost... That was just hypocritical. "Don't you know that a commanding officers job is to cause death in the most efficient way?"

The scrape of a chair stopped Patrick from whatever sharp retort was on his tongue. Dusty glanced over to see Justine had stood up. She was very pale. Mrs. Wyatt looked little better, as she got to her feet as well. "I'm sorry, Bonnie, I think, we should probably leave, for now. I'm not feeling so well." Dusty couldn't recall in which battle her husband had died. It had been years ago, a few after Dusty graduated. Some Iserlohn attack, he thought, but so many people he had once known were dead to war, it was hard to remember each and every one. In silence, he watched Bonnie follow the Wyatts to the door, heard her ask if they wanted her to call a cab, and heard Mrs. Wyatt say that they would walk. He felt Patrick glare at him. When the door shut, his voice was sharp.

"That was unnecessary, Dusty." Dusty snorted, no actually amusement in the half-laugh. Patrick continued. "This is what happens when you hang out with enemy soldiers. Treat them as friends...!"

Dusty crossed his arms over the table, elbows making rounded creases in the tablecloth. "This has always been a fact, dad. And I wouldn't even have met him if I'd not been a soldier. Which I never wanted to be in the first place, by the way." He noticed Bonnie enter the room thought the corner of his eye. "You're the ones who forced me to be a soldier, remember? You couldn't expect me to change and be some stoic, hyper-patriotic piece of crap that hates imperials on principle just because you managed to get me into officers academy. That's just not me, never has been, never will be, no matter what. I'm the one fighting them- and I won't ever allow myself to forget that they're only people, just like my subordinates and superiors are. That means," Dusty could see uncomfortable shifting, though it wasn't from his father, who refused to show any reaction (he wasn't doing too well, with the shifting colours of his face), but his mother, and his sister. Claude probably regretted bringing von Reuenthal up at all. "that there will be people among the imperial soldiers that I end up liking and befriending. Because they. are. people. With personalities, lives, likes and dislikes, things that makes them sad, or happy, or angry, or think. They have families, loved ones, people they dislike, annoying superiors, friendly neighbours. They have everything that you do. All that is different is their nationality, the highest power in their country, their religious belief, and the place they were born. You're no better than they are, just as they are no better than you are. They are just. people."

Dusty pushed himself away from the table and got out of the chair. He was tired and pissed, and he needed air. "I'll be away for the night," he said, as he passed by the door from picking up his things from the bedroom. His parents were still silent. Claude, however, got up and followed him to the door, grabbed him by the upper arm. She looked immensely uncomfortable.

"Look, Dusty, I'm... I'm sorry for telling on you."

"Because it made you listen to me go off, and you don't want to face facts?"

"I'm not a bigot," she said, but she was quieter than she had been when she said the same earlier. "Just.. Be careful, please."

"I'm always careful, sis."

"You're constantly getting in trouble. I want you to not do that."

Dusty shrugged, and pulled himself out of his sisters grasp. "Can't do something that's not in my nature."

.

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He could do it even less when he, from the car he had parked by the side of the road to simply breathe, spotted that face he had been imagining all afternoon, and felt his face crack into a smile. Dusty cranked down the window on the passengers side, and leaned across the seat to call out, a huge grin on his lips, "Marshal!" to the man suddenly looking at him with surprise.

Yeah, he couldn't go against his nature, and it was in his nature to be excited when seeing Marshal von Reuenthal even after a shitty few hours, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
> Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
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> 
> This author sees and appreciates all comments, but replies may take time.


	7. Thursday (Night)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my cat Hird decided to Plant His Ass in the way in all sorts of ways while I was writing this chapter. In the screen, on the keyboard, on my hands, my arms... I somehow manated to write several paragraphs despite that but it goes slower when you prefer having the option to look at your keyboard even if you only do it sometimes usually, and you completely forget where every single key is just becuse the visibility goes down to 0%. He came back several times to hang out in the way and prep to bake me.
> 
> I wanna try writing slow burn with these two because thiiis is definitely not that. I'm not particularly good at slow burn though... Which I guess is reason to learn how to do that? Yeah. I have some ideas anyway that I might try.

Dusty leaned against the wall to the hotel. Marshal von Reuenthal had said he'd be right back, and Dusty didn't mind waiting, even as he was glared at with suspicion by the single guard stalking him into the city. He'd had the time to park the car, and he had the time to process his thoughts.

Going back to his parents house was a bad idea, for the time being. He had intended to sleep in the car, or find a cheap motel for the night, but that could wait if it meant that he could hang out with someone that he actually liked. Even if his mind had gotten a bit confused by Claude calling the marshal his ''new beau''. She had said it to make the impact of her words that much harsher, for their parents to think that he was trying to date another man again- silly, really, when they should remember that he had on more than one occasion said that he was uninterested in such things. And the whole, ''when they get married'' thing... Two men couldn't marry each other, even if Dusty had been interested in marriage at all. But his mind was confused, and his ridiculous heart beat a little faster, when he saw von Reuenthal emerging from the hotel in civilian clothing. Dusty pushed away from the wall, ignoring his hearts weird actions. He looked pretty amazing in civilian fashion, in jeans and a t-shirt under a thin, unbuttoned coat. Sort of like a rare treat for the eyes.

"You lose your groupies along the way?" Dusty asked, grinning at von Reuenthals pretty arched eyebrow. "I mean your guards," he clarified. Dusty blinked in quiet bewlidemnent when von Reuenthal, instead of commenting, dismissed Dustys own guard. Again. That was the second time in a day. "Uh-huh, okay, I guess you can do that," he mumbled to himself as he watched. von Reuenthal came up right next to Dusty, and looked at him with what almost looked like expectation.

"Well? I don't know where to go."

Dusty cleared his throat and decided to ignore how his heart decided to do a little pause between beats at the tone in von Reuenthals voice. "Right, yeah, sure, right, uh- this way." He stopped himself from reaching out for von Reuenthals hand. They were in public, right outside one of the temporary Imperial headquarters, and not in the privacy that being in the thick of a forest climbing a mountain provided. The way von Reuenthal looked at him, Dusty suspected that he caught the aborted action, but he couldn't tell what the marshal thought of what he'd almost done. How he'd have reacted if he actually had taken his hand.

There was a market square some fifteen minutes or so away by foor, and even as the evening started to fall, it was a busy place. Even in this time of random imperials wandering about among the people that had seen the loss of loved ones because of the long, long war. People sold flowers, bookmarks, books, souvenirs, cured meat, smoked fish, art, and all sorts of things. Their purpose to visit was the vendors selling food. von Reuenthal had apparently been too caught up in work after they had parted ways, and had barely eaten anything at all since the treats Mairi had sent along with them, and while Dusty should have been full from dinner at his parents house and he had eaten, there was just something about the stress that made the energy the food provided pass right through him. Maybe it wasn't only because he was a growing boy that he had always been hungry as a kid.

Either way, von Reuenthal had asked him to show him the way to any place to eat, and when Dusty had asked if he wanted to find some specific kind of food, von Reuenthal had asked, ''what's your favourite food?'' and Dusty had thought _crap,_ as he felt his cheeks heat up, but had said, "Street food." He wasn't sure if von Reuenthal had noticed the brief paise as he tried to compose himself. He was glad for the falling darkness, which probably did at least something to conceal the blush on his cheeks. So street food was the goal, and Dusty had a few ieas that he was trying to decide between. It was better to focus on that, than on how awkward he felt all of a sudden. He blamed Claudes comment from before. Sisters were a pain. "Oh, we can start here," he said abruptly, when he spotted a nearby stall. He took hold of the marshals arm then, forgetting his embarrassment. He ordered for them both, since von Reuenthal had already told him that he could handle all that, the whole thing being outside of his territory when Dusty mentioned a few dishes served at the marketplace. They sounded very foreign to him, apparently. Dusty wondered if even food options had been controlled in the early Goldenbaum rulse, and there had continued to be a lack of diversity in the culinary field even now.

"Here, for you," Dusty turned to von Reuenthal, and held out one of the Chori for him. The marshal took the sausage and bread offered, then one of the beer cans Dusty also bought. As they ate, they wanered the marketplace as many others did, and Dusty felt his unease settle down. He watched with one eye as the marshal ate, tried to read his expression. From what Dusty had heard, they had plenty of sausage dishes in the empire, and plenty of types of sausage, but the sauce it was seasoned with was special, from his experience they tended to taste different between each street vendor even with the same type of sauce. If the empires food culture wasn't as varied as the FPAs, had he ever tried or even heard of chimichurri sauce? Dusty smiled, as von Reuenthal made a startled little choking sound. He looked like he liked it, just that he hadn't expected the exct taste. Dusty bit his lip as he watched von Reuenthal take another bite. Damn, he was cute.

They talked. About inconsequential things. Looked at things at the different vendors' stands; talked about books they had read; gossipped about their colleagues without going into any battle-related territories; bought some silly, cheap trinkets that wrapped around wrists and clipped into bangs; talked about places they had been stationed at without going into any risky details; even made jokes. The corners around von Reuenthals eyes crinkled with a laugh as Dusty teased him about the way he teared up when he didn't expect one of the pizza cuts that he tried to be as spicy as it turned out to be. There was the way that von Reuenthals lips turned up in a smile that showed teeth in an almost embarrassing, unintended way when Dusty got sugar icing all over his face as a second layer of freckles when he drew in some from his bougatsa through his nose and sneezed. _Damn_ , he was adorable.

"Attenborough," von Reuenthal called calmly, as he looked through a box of old books at a second-hand stall a nearby shop ran. Dusty looked up from his examination of a pile of records. There were some interesting stuff in there for a really cheap price. "Hmm?"

"Would you like to go back and drink with me?"

Dusty blinked, first rapidly, then more slowly, as he looked at von Reuenthal, startled. "Ah." His mind processed the way the marshal had called him, and he felt his cheeks warm a little. When von Reuenthal tilted his head in question, Dusty explained, "First time you didn't add my rank," and he thought that von Reuenthal got a somewhat flustered expression on his face. _Too damn--_ He glanced away, flipping through a few more of the records. "Anyway- yeah, I'd like that."

They wrapped up their browsing, with any shopping that they wanted to do done for the evening. Dusty lead the way back to the hotel, as he glanced between von Reuenthals face and the necklace resting loosely around his throat, dipping toward the top of his collar bones, and he felt the presence bracelet on his own left wrist that matched. A silly thing, maybe. Dustys idea, that had surprisingly been accepted. He had sort of been joking, but it felt warm, somhow. Were von Reuenthals lips equally warm--- _nope! None of those thoughts, Dusty,_ he told himself. _Stop! It!_

It turned out that Marshal von Reuenthal had a fair amount of bottles of alcohol in his suite, which... Dusty had to wonder if that was healthy. That kind of thing could easily encourage one to drink to excess, he knew from personal experience and, even more, from his Yang experience. He decided to not comment on it though, because he didn't know what von Reuenthals drinking habits were. Maybe he was the kind of person who had no issues with having so many bottles laying around without touching them.

There was a sofa in the suite, a cushiony two-seater, opposite a set of matching arm-chairs. Dusty found himself in the sifa, with von Reuenthal in the armchair nearest to his spot. von Reuenthal had produced two glasses from somewhere, and poured them whiskey from a bottle with an unfamiliar label in Imperial. It must have arrived with the ships, then, Dusty assumed, or else the shops nearby had started to import new brands he wasn't familiar with. He had liked to try different things each time he went to shop some bottles, and knew basically everything they sold.

Conversation flowed easy, and perhaps a slight bit toward the riskier territories, with the help of alcohol. Nothing detrimental that would clue von Reuenthal in on the Iserlohn commands future plans, but in other territories they probably wouldn't have approached otherwise.

"I need to ask you something," von Reuenthal said, suddenly. The sound his glass made as he put it down was a bit forceful against the table surface. He interlaced his fingers, his elbows resting against his knees. He locked his gaze with Dustys. It was unlikely that it would be the last time that Dusty thought of how pretty his eyes were. How charming the curve of his eyebrows were. How kissable his lips looked. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

Dusty flinched, suddenly feeling guilt wash over him. "Uh, I don't... What? Was that what you...? I don't know what you... what you mean.." He had to have been intending to ask something else, but he noticed a look in Dustys eyes as he thought those stupid thoughts, and had focused on that instead, distracted from his real question.

"That was what I've been wanting to ask. I noticed before, too. Sometimes, you look at me... strangely. Almost like some sort of..." He was quiet for almost an entire minute, until he finished, awkwardly, "...fondness."

"Oh." Dusty looked at von Reuenthal. Blinked a few times, slowly, as he processed that. It wasn't just this time, then. He didn't just notice the thought of ''his lips looks kissable'' passing though Dustys mind. He had noticed more of those instances, when Dusty felt a strange sort of adoration for the man and his small expressions, gestures, choice of words. "Well. That's.." Dusty put his glass down, gingerly. The contents on the bottom rippled a warm gold-brown. "That's because it is." He saw how von Reuenthals mouth shifted, thought that the man was biting the inside side of his lip. "Because I think that you're very cute, and adorable."

von Reuenthals eyes disappeared behind his bangs. At some point, his hair had fallen from his perfect do-up, and it allowed him to obscure part of his face simjply by tilting his head. He leaned forward, and his forehead pressed against his still laced fingers. A long sigh, filled with upset, could be heard in the room. "You shouldn't say something like that to someone like me," he said. His voice was quiet. Not in a timid, shy sort of way, but in a subdued, certain tone. Dusty scowled.

"I don't care if you don't agree, actually."

von Reuenthal looked up abruptly, startled, eyes wide. Dusty crossed his arms, as a confused, "What?" came out of von Reuenthal.

"I think you're cute. I think you're adorable. I like the way you smile. I like the sound you make when you taste something you're surprised to find yourself liking. I like the way that you forget to control your expression when you truly laugh. I like when you--"

Dusty was silenced by a hand covering his mouth. von Reuenthal looked practically distressed. He had risen from the arm-chair, and was leaning over the table to reach Dusty, and he looked ready to run away. Dusty slipped his hand over von Reuenthals, and, removing it from his mouth, laced his fingers loosely with von Reuenthals. His voice was soft, when he spoke again.

"Thing is, this is my opinion. It won't change just because you don't want me to have them, Oskar." He was probably out of line, even going so far as to use the mans first name. They didn't know each other like that. But.... "Is that scary?" Casting his eyes downward, von Reuenthal said nothing. He didn't confirm it. But he also didn't deny it. His fingers twitched against the back of Dustys hand. Dusty gave a small, careful tug, and von Reuenthal rounded the little table, to come to sit down next to Dusty on the sofa.

"You shouldn't...." von Reuenthal didn't look Dusty in the eye; instead he looked at their intertwined hands, and the way that Dustys thumb slowly rubbed against his skin. "I don't deserve any..." He took a deep, deep breath, and Dusty could hear the agony even in just that. And when he spoke-... Dusty felt his heart cracking deeply for the man that leaned more and more against him, tired with intoxication and pain. "I'm a bastard. Surely... Probably. My mother... The only time she held me, she tried to gouge my blue eye out, because she thought it was evidence of her infidelity. After she died-- killed herself- my father always tolf me I should never have been born. That it was my fault she died... I don't... When you said something like that before, I didn't... take it as much of anything, just.. something you might say to people. I don't deserve to be adored. By you or by anyone.."

Honestly, it was hard to know what to say. Dusty was a guy who liked words, yes, but sometimes, words failed him, and he ended up saying something so tactless and stupid as, "Your parents are morons and don't know what you're on about." He felt as if von Reuenthals gaze burned, when he looked at him. "And even if you don't think I should, I'm still gonna adore you."

von Reuenthal was quiet for a long time, simply staring at Dusty. Then he swallowed, drew a shuddering breath, and closed his eyes for several long moments. When he opened them again, he seemed suddenly more sober, his expression once more controlled. "I would like to talk about something else."

Dusty let out a breath, and he nodded. "Sure." His gaze moved around for a bit, searching, before he turned back to von Reuenthal. "Have you ever played mancala before?" von Reuenthal shook his head. Dusty stood, and reluctantly, he let go of von Reuenthals hand.

He couldn't find exactly as much as was needed to improvise a simplified board, so he had to simplify it a slight bit more. Well, that was fine, he could snatch his board from his stuff later, to show von Reuenthal the actual setup. He used glasses for the pits, using the largest ones he could find for the houses, and managinf somehow to collect five rows of regular pits each. He used beans 8probably meant as snacks to go with the alcohol, though they hadn't had any) in place of seeds. "So this is very simplified, since we don't have an actual board. Normally there'd be two rows of pits, and a lot more of them, overall, but since there's not enough glasses for that, this'll have to do. Anyway. We'll try this way first- starting with all the seeds placed in the pits. I'll show you the other version of the rules later we get the chance." He explained the simpler set of rules, that didn't make the second set of pits required. Dusty had expected it, but von Reuenthal was very quick on the uptake, and it was only in the first few games that Dusty had an easy time winning.

They were interrupted by the rumbling of a stomach. Dusty laughed warmly at the embarrassed expression on von Reuenthals face, then snorted as von Reuenthal looked ridiculously smug as Dustys stomach joined in to chorus the rumble. "There's a place open all hours that sell bean soup, if you wanna get some of that," Dusty suggested. von Reuenthal agreed.

The hour had struck late, and the night was chilly, but the soup was possibly the most delicious it had ever been.

"Attenborough, you're doing it afain."

Dusty blinked out of his daze. He had been looking at von Reuenthal again, hadn't he? Thought of how cute he was with his cheeks a little red from the alcohol he had consumed, his coat buttoned all the way up, a scarf poking out past the collar top, and his bare fingers wrapped around the clay cup of soup. "Mmh, because you're cute." Maybe it wasn't total optical illusion that the red on von Reuenthals cheeks seemed to spread a little.

"Do you really not care that I don't agree with you?"

"Well..." Dusty leaned against the brick wall of the building they stood by. "I care, but not in the sense that your opinion will change mine. I care in the sense that I wish you thought better of yourself. But me saying that isn't just going to change your mind either, is it?" von Reuenthal shook his head. "Right. But if I'm stubborn enough enough it, maybe you'll at least believe that I'm serious when I say that I think you're adorable. And that you deserve it." von Reuenthal looked like he wanted to object. Dusty clicked a nail against his cup. "The only one who can decide who deserved my affection is me. Just like the only one who can decide who deserves yours is you. Nobody else can decide that."

"It doesn't really matter. My affection isn't worth much, anyway." Reuenthal spoke into his soup, rather than to Dusty, when he said that. As if he knew that Dusty would object to that claim.

"Not true. I'm an affectionate person, I get that. Just because you're not, and you're more selective in who you show your affection to, doesn't mean it's worth less. To the people recieving it, particularly to theose you're important to, you're affection is worth more than anything else you can give them."

von Reuenthal was silent, for a very long time. He finished his soup, and he wordlessly asked if Dusty wanted more. He returned with their cups full of the filling, warm stuff of deliciousness, and for another while longer, there was contemplative silence between them.

"Does that include you, too?" von Reuenthal asked, once he decided to break the silence that Dusty had let him think through. Dusty tipped his head sideways, a questioning look in his eyes. "I appear to have your affection...somehow, though I don't understand why. If I say that you have mine as well, would that... Er..." He was again looking away from Dusty, purposeful in that motion. "Would that be worth more?"

Dusty grinned, silently. He felt warm inside, in a stupid, ridiculously happy kind of way. When von Reuenthal finally glanced over to him, Dusty nodded. "Yeah, it'd be worth a whole lot, to me. And make me plenty happy."

von Reuenthal turned his gaze back down to his soup. "Even though I'm only a regular rebel to the bone..." When Dusty made a questioning noise, he shook his head. "No, it's nothing. Should we head back?"

"It's getting pretty late. I should probably find a hotel or something that take last-minute reservations." There was a motel nearby, he thought. Perhaps twenty minutes by car, and he did have one at his disposal. If they were out, the easiest option was just to sleep in the car, even if it'd be a bit cold. He noticed von Reuenthal staring at him. "Hm?"

"There is a hotel right nearby. No reservation needed." It took several moments for Dustys mind to catch up to that, and he straightened up a little, surprised.

"Are you sure that's alright?"

"Do you think I would offer, if it wasn't?"

"I guess you wouldn't, no."

"And? Your answer?"

Dusty chuckled. He smiled. That stupid warmth just wouldn't go away. "Yeah, I'll accept that offer."

"Good." Dusty watched as von Reuenthal shifted his cup from one hand to the other. "I have... one other thing. That I would like to ask." Dusty inclined his head, an encouragement to go on. "If it would be, without any expectations, alright to kiss you?"

Dusty was pretty sure he had passed out at some point and was simply dreaming. He couldn't believe that von Reuenthal would ask- that he'd even be interested in such a thing. He stumbled on his own tongue. "Y-yesh--yeah, yes."

von Reuenthal wrapped a hand around Dustys wrist. His grip was tight, almost as if he was unsure Dusty wouldn't just change his mind and run away. Or maybe he wanted to keep himself from doing the same. Or maybe he just needed it to ground himself. It hurt a little, because his fingers pinched around the bracelets beads of wood and glass, but that was alright. Dusty brushed the knuckles of his other hand, free from von Reuenthals grip but not of his cup, against von Reuenthals cheek and sharp cheek bone. His skin was warm, and soft. Dusty was pretty sure he could see specks of colour in the deep night-sky dark of that right eye. He swallowed, hard. Stars. There were stars in his eyes. So pretty.

His lips were warm from the soup, firm and soft in texture, gentle in their press against Dustys. Dusty peered through half-lidded eyes into von Reuenthals, as he kissed him, pressed a little closer, pulled away. Dusty licked his lips, yearning for that mellow warmth the instant he lost it. He felt like he would burst from the happiness that swelled in his chest at that simple, brief touch of lips against lips.

"When... Ah, you don't have to decide now, but.. When we get back, is it alright if I kiss you, too?" Dusty added, after. "If you'd prefer though, we can play more mancala. Or some other game. I'm sure we can come up with something to improvise. Or just sleep, since it's late." He didn't want to corner him, as he wouldn't want to be cornered.

"I think I need a few moments to think... You have to understand something," von Reuenthal said, slowly, and for a moment, Dusty was worried. "I have never kissed another man before this. I'm unsure how to... react to my desire of wanting to do so."

The clay cups clicked agaisnt each other as Dusty took von Reuenthals from him. Dusty twisted his still-captured wrist in von Reuenthals grasp, and captured that hand with his. He pulled von Reuenthals knuckles to his lips, and _oh_ his expression was amazing. "It's alright. I don't mind you taking your time to figure things out. I know how to be patient."

He didn't need to be that patient, at least for the kisses. It had been such a long time since Dusty had been able to fall asleep in someone elses arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally wrote "the soup was possibly the most delicious it had ever bean" before I realised my mistake.
> 
> Anyone else enjoy playing mancala sometimes? I used to play kalaha in specific, since it's the one imported to Sweden, commerially at least, as my paternal grandparents bought a board when I was a kid. I want one of my own, I think. I don't want to only be able to play at grandmas house and since she expects full attention for conversation, which I don't like, I don't like visiting her place.
> 
> But the version that dusty plays is bao and I think I might need to actually try playing it to get a bit of a handle on the rules so. They haven't been included here.
> 
> Reuenthal calling himself a "regular rebel to the bone" comes from Elfriede calling him one. (Volume 6, page 119 of... whatever printing my copy is.) So this takes place somewhere narrowly between then and Yangs arrest, with the existing possibility on canon divergence relating to some added time. I'm not sure if Reuenthal has told Mittermeyer about Elfriede, here, but in the grand scope of things, that doesn't really matter.
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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